I’ve done this before, of course, if not for so long, and
perhaps never before with the help of my prostate, in between times of chastity
when I let more hormones go insane, on the presumption that I was somehow
saving myself, rare moments between the much longer times when I stroked myself
blind.
With a man it’s complicated. His libido might be going
haywire, but unable to get the mechanism to function right, never stiff enough
for long enough to be effective.
Chasitity hotwires the libido and creates the illusion that I
could do it if I wished to do it, but since I’m being chaste, I choose not to, when
that’s a load of hogwash.
The surgery to reduce the size of the prostate screwed up
the mechanism, too, leaving the libido to go hog wild while the plumbing got
confused, the seed and the pee somehow confused in the pipes so nothing comes
out right, and I’m sometimes tempted to take the other route through the
backdoor where some say a man can milk his prostate with results almost as good
as the front door. But that’s a little gay, I think, allowing my libido to do
what it does, fog up the windshield, and fool me into thinking I can still do
what I used to do, when most likely, I can’t.
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